


A Touch Overcome

by rainydayrambling



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Light BDSM, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayrambling/pseuds/rainydayrambling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam comes home to Henrietta for the weekend to visit his boyfriend after spending the week planning how he wants this particular encounter to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch Overcome

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, this fic does feature what I consider to be relatively light BDSM. If that's something you're not comfortable with, that's totally cool but this might not be the story for you. I hope you find some porn better suited to your tastes!
> 
> Also ngl, I'm exhausted but desperate to just post this damn thing, so I may end up editing it slightly in the near future.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please feel more than free to leave comments -- I love that shit!

Adam discovered quickly that Ronan liked to be told what to do. It made sense, really. Ronan spent so much time emphatically doing the whatever anyone didn’t want him to do, and people had a way of doing the opposite in bed of what they typically did in life.

Of course, it started small and took its time to show itself, this hidden part of Ronan. It came out in little touches, when Adam accidentally used a little too much pressure absent-mindedly while nudging Ronan out of the way in the bathroom-kitchen and Ronan’s eyes flicked to Adam’s face immediately and his lips parted in his distinct brand of surprised pleasure. And it came out in moments of startled divulgence, jokes turned into sparks of honesty that couldn’t be taken back.

Because that was how he was, Adam tested his theory. When they kissed, tangled in Ronan’s sheets and lying full-length against each other, he would press the pad of his thumb, just for a moment, against the base of Ronan’s throat. And Ronan would breathe a little harder, kiss a little deeper, move his body up toward Adam a little more. Or Adam would walk up to him when they were alone, take both of Ronan’s wrists in his hands and hold them still at his sides before leaning in to kiss him, and Ronan would make a tiny sound in the back of his throat that Adam knew he hadn’t planned to let out.

None of this particularly surprised Adam. What did surprise him was his own response to it. He grew slow and sloppy and heady whenever Ronan let one of these betrayals of his inner desires slip out. He spent whole weeks at school planning the different things he would try when he went home to Henrietta to visit the next weekend.

So this weekend, when he arrived at a quiet Monmouth late Friday night, exhausted from being in class since nine that morning and the two-hour drive back to Henrietta, he already knew what he wanted.

Gansey must have been out with Blue, and Noah probably sensed the mood Adam was in, because no one appeared to be home when he opened the door. But he knew Ronan was home, because Ronan was always home on Friday nights these days. He probably just had his headphones on and didn’t hear Adam come in.

Adam dropped his backpack by the couch and went to Ronan’s bedroom door. It wasn’t latched. He pushed it open with the tips of his fingers.

Ronan looked up and smiled before quickly schooling his features into an expression he probably deemed less embarrassing. He pulled the headphones off and dropped them on the floor.

“Hey,” he said, bright -- or as bright as Ronan Lynch would ever allow himself to sound.

“Hey,” Adam said back, and even he could hear the deep dark of his own voice. Not the dangerous kind of dark, but the kind full of promise. The dark of a comfortable room with the lights turned off.

Ronan must have heard it too, because his lips parted and he stood from the bed.

He came toward Adam, but Adam closed the space, reaching out and pulling Ronan to him at the same time that he turned them around to hold Ronan against the wall.

Ronan took a sharp breath in and didn’t release it until Adam had one hand at the base of his throat, the other holding onto Ronan’s hip through his jeans, and his mouth touching brief kisses against Ronan’s neck. Adam pulled back so he could see Ronan’s face, eyes heavy and bottom lip heavy and Adam could already feel heat gathering in the center of his body. It was remarkable how much it felt like that old rage, and yet he knew it would be freed in a very different way.

He kissed Ronan properly, and slow. Ronan was malleable as putty beneath Adam’s hands. Adam opened his mouth and Ronan followed. Adam pushed his tongue inside and Ronan met him there, matched his pace even though Adam knew it must be agonizing, knew that if Ronan had his way, after a week apart, he would have been tearing into Adam’s mouth and out of his clothes. But really they both knew that Ronan’s way was whatever Adam wanted it to be.

Adam pressed his body closer, sucked Ronan’s bottom lip into his mouth, put a touch more pressure against his throat. And now, even though it was just the merest suggestion of something more, Ronan was breathing hard and kissing hard and growing hard in his jeans where his hips were tight against Adam’s. Adam would love to pretend it didn’t affect him, seeing Ronan’s response to this, to him, but no matter how he controlled his own breathing, there was no denying the hardness Ronan could no doubt feel by now too.

Adam broke the kiss and looked down at Ronan’s mouth, reddened and swollen. His eyes were open too, looking up at Adam, waiting to see what he would do. Adam moved his hand away from Ronan’s throat to swipe the pad of his thumb across Ronan’s bottom lip. It came away wet and Adam was done taking his time.

Dragging Ronan away from the wall, he pushed him down onto the bed and allowed himself to enjoy the pliant way Ronan reformed around him when Adam climbed over him.

 

Adam skipped right over Ronan’s shirt and went for his jeans instead, quickly unbuttoning, unzipping, and discarding. He touched the palm of his hand to the front of Ronan’s boxers and didn’t quite stop the smirk that sprung to his face when Ronan’s hips hitched up into the touch. “Stay,” he said, mostly because he knew it would get Ronan’s body racing. He stood to get out of his own jeans and t-shirt, and to get the lube from Ronan’s bedside drawer.

Ronan’s chest was practically heaving by the time Adam returned to the bed. “Relax,” Adam said, leaning down to press a kiss to Ronan’s forehead. Ronan shot him a wry look that seemed to say something akin to easier said than done.

Adam laughed, just a little, and dropped down to take Ronan into his mouth. Ronan immediately gasped and threaded his fingers into Adam’s hair, but Adam made his best attempt at a sound that suggested admonishment and reached up to pull Ronan’s hands away, placing them instead on the bed, where he felt them curl into fists.

Ronan breathed like he was in pain, looked like he was in pain, but his hips stuttered up toward Adam and the sound of his voice when he swore was like liquid reverence.

Adam simultaneously took more of Ronan and nudged at one of his thighs. Ronan let his legs fall open, sending a jolt of chemical heat straight down Adam’s body. Somehow, miraculously, Adam managed to reach over to the bottle of lube he’d grabbed and open it with one hand, squeezing it onto his fingers. He left the bottle open on the bedspread.

They had done this a few times now. Adam had the definite feeling that they were working up to something, and he suspected that Ronan felt that way too, but he didn’t mind taking the slow route. He was enjoying himself, and if the way Ronan always arched and cursed was any indication, he was having a good time too.

Adam touched one cool, slick fingertip to Ronan and he was a mess already. He knew what it felt like, how Adam could make him feel, and suspense was not something Ronan had ever been particularly good with. “Christ,” he bit out. “Do it already.” But Adam only drew a lazy circle with the tip of his finger and slid further down until he felt Ronan hit his throat. Ronan’s hips bucked up, but he kept his fists straining in the sheets. Adam pushed his first finger inside.

He let Ronan enjoy a few strokes before he pulled his mouth away entirely. He kept his finger moving, and Ronan started rocking back against it, probably missing the friction from Adam’s mouth.

 

“Hey,” Adam said. He pressed down on Ronan’s hip to keep him still, which was a little cruel, he’d admit, because he didn’t stop his own movements. But Ronan tried, because it was what Adam wanted. He shook with the effort, but he held his hips in place and opened his eyes. “I want you to wait until you’ve got three of my fingers in you before you come,” Adam said. He could hear in his own voice the kind of power he had always wanted to hear in it, and that paired with Ronan’s wide eyes, his prone and beautiful body laid out beneath Adam’s hands, was enough to make a part of him want to end this now, he was aching so bad. But he had plans, and Adam never ignored his carefully laid plans. “Okay?” he said.

Ronan nodded, and Adam noticed for the first time how pink his face had gotten.

Adam pressed his finger further in and watched Ronan struggle to keep his body still. “Okay?” he asked again.

“Yes, fuck, okay,” Ronan said.

Adam went back to work. They had never made it to three fingers before, and honestly, Adam doubted that they would now either. But that was okay. He had a plan B. And if he was being honest with himself, Plan B was what he really wanted to get to tonight.

He worked Ronan open a bit more, wanting to be sure that he was loose and ready before he added a second finger. By the time he pressed his middle finger in beside the first, Ronan’s string of expletives had grown continuous and significantly louder, and his body was acting on its own instinct, clutching at Adam’s fingers in a way that he was sure Ronan would be humiliated by if he was aware enough to notice it. Not that there was any reason to be embarrassed. Adam was thrilled by this effect -- real, tangible evidence of how badly Ronan wanted Adam inside him. He pushed his face down into Ronan’s curls, taking as much of him as he could to stifle a moan of his own.

With two fingers inside, Adam knew, there would be some pain now, but Ronan had never been one to shy away from pain. His breathing grew a little more ragged and his curses, his “Fucking hell God Adam,” came out sounding a little more angry, but Adam had been here enough now to know that Ronan was as far from angry right now as he ever was.

Adam closed his eyes just to feel for a moment. Ronan’s muscles were tight beneath Adam’s free hand, but loosening perceptibly beneath the ministrations of the other. Adam’s own body was tense and held at an awkward angle to make everything work, but it was easy to ignore his arms aching with the heavy pulse that started somewhere near his navel and spread down to between his legs.

Ronan cried out suddenly. Adam opened his eyes in time to see him cover his mouth with one hand and he knew he must have nudged his prostate. He repeated what he had done before --then again, and again. Ronan removed his hand from his mouth to say, “Not fair,” in a voice that was probably meant to be scathing, but significantly less so than usual.

Adam shrugged one shoulder, hoping that the “I didn’t say I would play fair,” was visible. Based on the death glare Ronan mustered, he guessed that it was.

But Adam redoubled his efforts, stroking with his tongue as he bobbed his head and pressing with the pads of his fingers every time he pushed in. This was his favorite part, being witness to Ronan’s unraveling. This was the kind of control, the kind of power, that Adam had always longed to feel -- power that made something good, that didn’t have to be feared, that didn’t cause pain. He felt it warm him as Ronan forced himself to keep his hips still, his hands in the sheets instead of in Adam’s hair. He felt it as Ronan’s voice grew louder, no longer forming words -- or at least not English words, maybe dream words -- and his back arched up, his head thrown back against the pillows. Ronan’s pleasure crept closer to the edge and Adam couldn’t help being aware that he was the one causing it, that he -- this body, these hands -- was creating that pleasure.

In his own excitement, he pressed a little harder, pushed a little deeper, and Ronan finally fell (as predicted). He twisted the sheets in his hands and finally lost the battle with his hips. Adam swallowed around him and took his orgasm, letting him ride it out. He continued working his fingers until the tension left Ronan’s body and he slumped back into the bed. Adam eased his fingers out and pulled away, but when Ronan tried to pull him up for a kiss and most likely a blowjob, Adam resisted.

“You didn’t make it to three,” Adam said.

Ronan snorted. “So?”

“So,” Adam said, “you didn’t do something I told you to do.”

For a moment, Ronan didn’t say anything. Adam watched him closely to read his reaction. The cocky grin on his face faded, but he didn’t look angry or upset. His eyes were still hooded and his gaze dropped to the waistband of Adam’s boxers.

And then, quite decidedly, one corner of his mouth hooked up. “What are you gonna do about it?” he said.

The heat that had been growing in Adam’s body all night seemed to come alive. When he spoke again he was possessed by it. “Turn over.”

Ronan blinked once, and then rolled onto his front with no more hesitation. Adam swallowed, taking in the sight of Ronan laid out on the bed, his hands clasped beneath his head like a makeshift pillow. His legs were loose and open.

Adam pulled himself up a bit further on the bed, taking a less sprawled and more seated position. Ronan glanced back at him, but didn’t say anything. Adam placed one hand gently on Ronan’s calf, and carefully, slowly, dragged it up to the soft back of his knee, his strong thigh, the firm curve of his ass. Adam took a deep breath, partly to savor the moment and partly to make sure that Ronan had a chance to stop him, but Ronan said nothing. In fact, he seemed not to be breathing at all. Then, with a depth of concentration reserved for only the most important things, Adam lifted his hand and delivered a sharp slap to Ronan’s ass.

He looked immediately at what he could see of Ronan’s face, to try to find any hint of discomfort or displeasure, but all he could see was Ronan’s parted mouth and all he could hear was Ronan’s quick inhale -- surprised, but not, Adam thought, unhappy. He cupped Ronan’s ass again, and waited. But Ronan said nothing. And then, too dramatically for it to be an accident, he canted his ass up, pushing into Adam’s touch.

Adam thought that all of the oxygen might have just left the room. He gave another solid slap, and another, and Ronan was making small sounds now, tiny reactions to the impact, nothing like how he’d sounded before. For every moment of contact, Ronan lifted his hips, just barely, but enough that Adam knew how it affected him. Adam didn’t understand it, not at all, Ronan’s response to this, could never in a thousand years imagine deriving a sense of keen pleasure from this -- but nevertheless, Ronan’s response was real, tangible, empirical. And so was the effect it had on Adam. He felt high. He felt mighty. He slapped Ronan’s ass again and accidentally-on-purpose brushed his own dick through his boxers with his free hand, just to relieve some of the pressure.

Ronan let out a veritable keen and for the first time Adam noticed how pink Ronan’s skin had become. He’d had enough. Adam pulled back and laid down beside Ronan, cupping his hand at the base of Ronan’s neck to guide him closer. Ronan’s cheeks were red, his jaw slack, his eyelids drooped low. Adam had the sense that he was pulling Ronan up from a place deep within himself, a place Adam had been allowed, briefly, to explore. He felt a different kind of thrill at that thought, and when he led Ronan into a kiss, some of that deep dark followed him there. The kiss was languid, reverential. Adam was overcome, a little bit, by Ronan’s beauty, by his willingness to let Adam explore him and chart him and figure him out.

Adam, a touch overcome, broke the kiss to pull Ronan even closer to him, wrap his arms around him, bury his face in the space between Ronan’s neck and his sharp shoulder. He thought about saying “I love you” but decided it could wait.

Ronan sighed, the sound of contentment, and wrapped one leg around both of Adam’s. He nuzzled his face into Adam’s chest, and Adam knew that they would fall asleep like this, that he would wake up with his arm tingling and half his body hurting, but he didn’t even care.


End file.
